”Hopefully? I shrugged and plopped down next to her. She opened the shoe box top and pulled out... A stack of photo mats? She set them on the table,...upside-down. I could see the backs of three photographs taped to the top mat, presumably showing their contents through three cut-out rectangles on the front side.I looked at her questioningly, but found her putting on a pair of sunglasses. I gaped at her.“What’s this about? Are we going skiing or something?”Heather giggled. “It’s part of the. It felt wrong somehow. It was interfering with the sweet, smoky oblivion of his death. Then he bolted upright, pushing the sheet off and pulling in a wet gasp against the burning spikes in his body. He pushed the sheet down toward his knees and studied the knife in his thigh. He drew it out slowly, gnashing his teeth and wincing. A fresh spout of blood followed the blade out of his leg. His sidearm was lying out there somewhere in the junkyard mud where the first shot hit him. He was sure of. Then I went outside to find a black person, because black people sometimes have crack.The blood inside me seized me again, and once again I transformed, my hair turning red-gold-silver black (and short and spiky), my lips and left nostril sprouting studs and other piercings and tattoos stitching across my body - tattoos of my name, and snakes, and white rabbits with timepieces and the guy from Operation. You know, the game where you try to operate on some drunk guy. My clothes seemed now to be. “Whatssup?” I casually inquired. “Are you busy?” Joy asked. “I was winding things down for lunch,” I replied. I opened the office door and stepped back, and Joy seized on my non-verbal hint. She stepped into my office. I closed the door behind her. Almost immediately, I could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume. “Do you want to go to lunch?” Joy asked. My heart practically skipped a beat. Joy was drop-dead gorgeous and wanted to share a lunch with me. I was not going to turn her down..
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